Missing in Action
by MDAM-FASEGold
Summary: It's 1917 and two soldiers wake up in a green field with no idea where they are, with no money and great difficulty speaking to the locals. (This story is more of an exploration into the world of GATE, including looking into the language and culture).
1. MIA

**Missing In Action**

 _ **adjective**_

 **(of a member of the armed forces) not yet found dead or alive.**

C1: MIA

A pair of blue eyes awoke to a crisp cool sky. The smell of pollen thickly filled the air, as the sound of birds twittering to their morning tune. This was a far cry from the greys and browns of artillery battered fields of the western front. Rolling onto his front he placed his hands guardedly on each side of his body, moving his mud-caked fingers wide as he pushed upwards and onto his aching knees. Stretching back to relieve his joints, he heard a series of cracks move up his spine. His grey officers uniform, patched with blood and dirt, had seen better days.

"Verdammte Scheiße." _Damned Shit._ He muttered in German, squinting his eyes to the further rising sun. Wobbling onto his feet, he looked around his feet for his rifle only to find in a metre away. Bending over, with a grunt, he grabbed it by the sling and flung it over his shoulder. He took a quick swig of his flask, before looking around. The rolling hills moved into mountains in the far distance, reminding him a lot of his hometown of Füssen in Bavaria.

A loud cough sounded behind him.

Looking to his about, he saw a British officer; a glance at the two pips on the man's cuffs confirmed that, wearing his battle-worn green uniform. He had lifted his revolver and was aiming it at the German. "Well, this is awkward…" He tilted his soup bowl of a helmet upwards.

"Do you know, where we are?" The German officer said, his accent quite thin, not even bothering to move in retaliation, the Brit would have shot him already if he'd wanted him dead. Dropping the handgun and holstering it, he sighed moving up.

"If I'd have a guess… Alps? Hopefully Switzerland. I'd take this over Flanders any day of the week." He moved to his hands back, propping himself up, before asking for a hand. "A hand."

Despite his better judgement, he gave the man a hand, pulling him up to his feet. "You know. I could get shot for fraternizing with the enemy."

"That makes two of us. But what are you going to do. I have no idea where we are, and neither do you." He fiddled off his webbing, coat and dress jacket. "But get a smile on your face, old boy." He folded, rolled and squared away his winter uniform, before grabbing his rifle off the floor. "Let's see if we can find any locals, eh?"

Watching the Brit move off left, confused the German Lieutenant somewhat, making him glance around as if following would be a test or not. Finally giving an exasperated sigh, he set off after Brit.

Quickly catching up to the other officer, he tapped him on the shoulder. "Do you have any idea where you are going?"

"No, no and no." The German paled slightly. "However, where there is water, there is life. So we follow a stream, then a river, and then the coast. People always build around water; we'll die without it. If nothing, at least you can get some fish." He slapped the man on the back. "What's with that face? You'd rather be in Flanders?"

"At least, I'd know where I am." He muttered, slipping off his jacket in the warming spring sun. The pair walked downhill and into the lulls of the grassland, which, to some extent, reminded the two of the pre-war Low Countries. "Lieutenant?"

"Yes?"

"I didn't get a name."

"Oh? It's John, Lieutenant John Stevenson. What about you?"

"Lieutenant Hans Krüger. When did you sign up?"

John snorted. "I've been in the service of His Majesties since January Nineteen Twelve."

"Over four years…" Hans whistled.

"Two of which, I have somehow managed to survive with you pointing a gun at me."

"You're a sniper?" Glancing at the Enfield on the soldiers back.

"Designated marksman, my captain kept me in the back in order to provide covering fire, hence why I am not dead." He said shaking his head. "To think that I've nearly outlived most of my company is just odd to think about." He sighed. "What about you, Herr Krüger?"

"Why thank you, Mr Stevenson," He snorted. "I'm a sniper myself. Though I've only been in for the past year."

"I'd like to say how much of a bastard you are Hans." He said. "I know you are doing your job, but you just make life in the trenches even worse, somehow."

"Well, that's part of the idea, isn't it? We can get you at anytime and anyplace, it'd cause most people to feel terrified to even think about peaking over the that trench wall."

"True, true." The two of them walked further in silence. A small stream had formed to their side, slowly building up a width as they trudged through the forest. "I don't like this silence."

"Missing the rattle of the guns?" The German asked.

"Hardly. It's a welcome change actually."

Grabbing a box of matches and a carton of cigarettes from his pocket, he offered one of the fags to Hans. The German reached over and plucking one out, nodding a thanks as he put it in his mouth. John struck the match, lighting his fag before passing the light over. "Danke." _Thanks._

"No problem." He took a drag. "A sniper that smokes, I've never seen something that ironic."

The two of them continued their back and forth for the part of the day, but it wasn't long until they came across a beaten path near where the stream met a river. A much as it wasn't paved, the clear sign of twin wheels was enough to suggest civilisation. By the time noon had came and went by the time they reached what looked like a hut, the warm glow of the setting sunlit sky bathed the forest in calm, it was as if the world was winding down. Slipping towards it, the pair, walked on the sides of the feet as the quietly made towards the front door of the cottage. With a light tap on the door, the pair stood a polite distance from the door.

The small building, cottage looked ageless, as if it could have been built ten to a thousand years ago. Simple non-varnished door and window frames, the pale, weathered wooden shutters, like aged and stacked logs, slowly matching the greyness of the stone foundation, after being bleach by the sun. The vines latched themselves around the edged and hard points of the building, reaching far under the lip of thatched roof, covered in sycamore blades. The sound of a neigh alerted the pair to a small overlapping bit of thatch and a donkey underneath, a large tarpaulin covered carriage. A grumble was heard from behind the door.

"Ermm, hello?" John gave a small wave.

The man raised an eyebrow. _"_ Salute? _"_ The man asked as the two men at the door paled slightly. The old man gave the pair in front of him a strange look. "Dous sont Sacre Transweoruldus?" He slightly curious. "Nein? _"_

"You have any idea what he's saying?" John asked.

"Sounds like a bastardisation of German and Latin, much like English." Hans responded. "Transweoruldus, means across or trans, world or weoruld, and I think the 'us' bit is a male suffix, like Juli _us_ rather than Jul _ia_. Sacre, is the source of the word sacred, or holy. So I think he thinks we are pilgrims." John looked surprised, Hans raised his hands up in defence. "Hey, I'm Catholic and my school was run by monks, I think I might know Latin. The German, however, is self explanatory." He smiled before clearing his throat. "Wir sont Preditia Transweoruldus?" _Lost Travellers._ He said questionably.

The man just barked a laugh, the two soldiers looked confused. "I take it you need to work on the accent?" John said.

"Oh shut it." He turned back to the man. " _Entre?_ " He asked. The man sighed, he gestured with his hands, into the small room. "Danke. _"_ He bowed his head in thanks and respect, and it seemed to be a universal gesture. The old man moved around a pot in the centre of the room and sat down. The small cottage had a pleasant smell of herbs that seemed to float through the room. A small girl, about the age of sixteen walked through. Both John and Hans were surprised to see what looked like natural blue hair atop her head, with equally curious eyes to match.

"Salute." John attempted, causing the girl to look to the old man questionably.

"Transweoruldus?"

"Da." He responded.

"Ah." She nodded in understanding, jumping up next to the old man.

Hans leaned towards John. "I think you need to work on your accent."

She pointed at herself. "Lelei La Lalena." Then the old man. "Cato El Altestan"

Hans did the same, "Hans Krüger." then to John. "John Stevenson."

John took out a small notebook and an ink pencil before beginning to scribble in some notes.

"Senior Stevenson, Du fachen Notias?" She pointed at the paper.

"Err… Da?" He attempted they seemed to understand. He repeated the action with a little over exaggeration. "Ich facen" then he pointed at the text "Notias?" He attempted to say, his nervous smile broak into a grin when the two across from them nodded in understanding.

"Da. Du no comprehent unser Langia?"

John leaned into Hans. "This is like a melting pot of old French, Italian and Germanic. A proto-English, almost." He smiled. "So I'm guessing she is questioning if I speak the language at all."

"Die… La… Langia n'est… nicht unser."

"La Langia nicht unser." The old man corrected.

"La Langia nicht unser." _The language is not ours_ Hans attempted to say. "Wir Ausländers." _We're foreign._

"Dours Cladias est curius, eben wie dunser Transweoruldus Stockias."

"Our walking sticks?" Hans questioned John, who was still scribbling down notes.

"I think he means our rifles, Hans."

"Ah." He turned to the old man. "Unser Stockias sont nicht für Trandeorulden. Sie sont wie Arcuai, aber nicht." _They are like bows, but not._ "Sie heißen Gewehre oder Rifles." _They are called guns or rifles._

"Rifles? Das est trés intressant, wie tun sie funktion?" The girl asked.

"Should we show her? She's asking how they work." Hans asked John.

John picked up his Enfield Mark III rifle and sat it across his lap. Double-checked the ejector pin was still in place, before quickly cycling the mechanism, ejecting a live round into the air, which he caught with his right hand. Holding the .303 round in between his finger. With his left hand, he circled around the whole round "Cartridge," he then pointed at the tip, "Bullet," and then the casing, "Case." He turned to the Hans. "You're the translator, do your thing."

"La Bullet, Es-est wie ein Pfeil… Fleché… Saggita? In der Cartridge est ein Pulver la dilaten. La dilaten forceren… drüken… pushen la bullet von la Casing, aus la Ende las Gewehre. La bullet est trés schnell… rapide."

"Aha. Genial."

"He says that its genius." Hans said to John.

"Kind of is, isn't it."

Cato looked over the lip of the pot and nodded grabbing a bowl he turned to his guests. "Essen?"

"You don't need to translate that for me."


	2. Magic Words

C2: Magic Words

Hans woke up as sun streamed through the Venetian blinds and into the small corner commandeered by both John and himself. The girl, Lelei la Lalena sat in a little indented cot in the opposite corner of the room. The old man, Cato, slept next door in the only bed of the house. The cottage reminded him of some of the small farmer cottages that littered the Bavarian landscape, dugout cots for the children in the main room of the house, the one room built for the adults. The cottage was split into two, there was the kitchen, dining, sleeping and working room and there was Cato's room and study. Slowly getting up and not trying to disturb the sleeping soldier next to him. He slid out the door and into the early morning sunlight, grabbing his rifle on the way out. There was a cooling, dew-like humidity in the air, making his stretch off feel ever more refreshing. A sound of a bucket dropping, its content spilling over the floor, caught his attention. Looking around, he saw Cato move buckets over from the stream and to the trough for his mule.

"Senior Cato, brauchen vu aide?" _Mr Cato, do you_ _(formal, single)_ _need help._

"Ah, Legutus Krüger. La Noctia tait nett zu du?" _Ah, Lieutenant Krüger. The night was kind to you_ _(informal, single)_ _?_

"Da, was circa vu." _Yes, what about you?_ Hans said slowly, pronouncing every syllable with concentration.

Cato laughed and waved him over "Komm, Komm. Ich ken michs Langia est trés dificile four Ein vie du." He paused and let Hans's brain catch up. _I know… my language is hard for one like you._ A small smirk grew on the old man's face. "Du und Dut Ami sont rapide discentibus." _You and your (informal, single) friend are quick…_

"Discentibus?" Hans asked.

"Discipulus… Scholarius?"

"Ah, Ein Schüler order Ein Student." _So he's calling us quick learners._ "Danke, Senior Cato."

"Bah." He waved it down. "Es est trés interessant four Ein ancien Mann vie Ich. Zwei Manns avec nix* ken four la langia." _It is very interesting for an old man like I. Two men with no*_ _(used before a word to state that there is a lack of. It is like the suffix –less and in this case it is used as nix ken (without knowledge))_ _knowledge for_ _(can be used as 'of')_ _the language._ "Ich bin Ein Professus." _I'm a professor_.

"Professus four vas?" _Professor of what?_

"Professus four Magikae." _Professor of Magic._

"Magicae? S'est nicht…" _Magic. That is not…_

"…Real? Magikae s'est eine Fabrik? Nein, es n'est*." _…Real? Magic is a fabrication_ _(not real)_ _? No, it isn't ('est nicht' can be turned into 'n'est' as an abbreviation but est nicht can be used to exaggerate the point)._ With a wave of the hand, the bucket that had been dropped began to have a blue ethereal glow. It lifted off the ground and floated back towards the stream.

"Heilige Scheiße…"

"Vohere kommst du, vero?" _Whereabouts are you from, truly?_ The old man's features frowned, his stance becoming more defensive.

"Drin compariri avec here. Ich hab nix ken." _In comparison to here. I have no idea._ Krüger looked over the man with scrutiny.

"Vero? Ein Plaza avec nix ken four Magikae. Se genre four plaza n'est bekenned." _Really? A place with no knowledge of magic? That sort of place is not known._

"Nix Ken, aber et est stillan vie real." _Unknown, but it is still as real._ He argued, taking a step backwards, towards the edge of the wall, his hands resting on his officer's pistol. "Se Weurldus n'est unsers." _This world is not ours_. "John und Ich sont nix four se Weurldus, wir sont four ein Weurldus four Machinis und Technology, nicht Magikae." _John and I are no of this world, we are of a world of machines and technology, no magic._

The man visibly relaxed. "Ein Weurldus avec nix Ken four Magikae. Therest Historia four solch Weurlden auf le autre Seite four La Portum." _A world with no knowledge of magic. There are stories of such worlds on the other side of The Door._

"La Portum?"

"La Portum four Alnus. S'est nur ein Zwelf Mille Vest." _The Door of Alnus. It is only a twelve miles west._ "S'est dot destinat?" _It's your (Plural) destination?_

"Da, es est four la moment." _Yes, it is for the moment._ "Es est solch ein Plaza se…" _It is a place that…_ Hans paused to try and think up the right word.

"Vürde mach Sensus" _Would make sense._ Cato finished. Hans looked at the man, his usually soft eyes narrowed to more of a glare. The frown on the professor's face mellowed and the old man returned. "Ich machen le Transweorld zu Coda Dorf drin le Stunde. Du und dut Ami solte Transweorld avec Lelei und Ich" _I'm making the journey to Coda Village within the hour. You and your friend should journey with Lelei and I."_

"Da. Nix Obster." _Yes. No problem._ Hans had no idea what had just happened there, it was almost like both John and Hans's presence in this world disturbed him. The old man returned to do his magic and attempted to take the buckets between the stream and the trough. There was a bang in the house, causing both Cato and Hans to glance at each other before running indoors only to see both John and Lelei around a small chalk written ring with a small smoking soot mark in the centre with three piles of materials, one yellow, one black and one white, in smaller circles, each connected to another be a line, forming a triangle within the larger circle.

"Gunpowder." John looked up smiling at the pair.

"Gunpowder?" Cato asked.

"Pulver four unser Cartridge sa la Dilatia four le Push four le Bullet." _Powder for our cartridge that explodeds for the push of the Bullet._ Hans explained to the old man

"Sulphurus, Salpeter und Holzcoal." The old man counted off. _Sulphur, Saltpetre and Charcoal._ Hans translated thought.

"John, how do you know how to make gunpowder?"

"I grew up on a farm. My grandfather made his cartridges for his shotgun, though for the saltpetre we generally sourced it from chucking our shit onto some wheat stalks and cut grass. It'd take months but we could turn that into saltpetre. As for sulphur, that was only a tenth of the whole mixture, so we could easily buy enough from the town chemist."

"What's with the chalk?"

"Lelei says it is something called Kemia."

"I've never seen chemistry like that?"

"Have you read Mary Shelly or Victor Hugo? In those books, they speak of alchemists and hermetic scholars. It's like magic."

"Probably because it is. Our ageing friend next to me is a sorcerer, supposedly as high up as a professor and if I had to guess, Lelei is an apprentice of sorts." Said old man began looking over the smoking remains of the primitive gunpowder and began taking some notes.

"Well… I see… this makes this all a little more interesting and complicated." John sighed. "I'd expect to read this in some fantasy pulp magazine. And here I am living it. Let's hope it this isn't the King in Yellow sort of fantasy." John could see the confusion on Hans's face. "Horror story… Never mind. Let's just hope it is all sing and dancing dwarfs and fairies rather than actual brutal medieval disease and warfare."

"Speaking of wars, we have one of our own to get back to. Cato suggested that we head to a place called The Door of Alnus, or something. From what I gathered from Cato, there is a possible link between worlds there. So maybe we can get back via this Door."

"Sounds fantastical enough for this world, sure, why not. What could go wrong, touch wood." He knocked one of the cottage's supporting pillars thrice. "When are we going?"

"He's heading to a local village to pick up some supplies within the hour. You all packed up?"

"More or less." He said, looking around, packing a small roll of spare clothing that he used as a pillow. "Done." He shrugged, putting on his soup bowl of a helmet.

The two of them exited the building and moved out, the pair of natives came out behind them. "Helpen?" _Help?_

"Nein, es est fein." _No, it's fine._ The old man shrugged, moving towards the donkey, which, with the help of some magic, was quickly saddled and connected to a cart. The cart moved forwards and stopped in the middle of the road. The girl grabbed her staff and jumped on next to her master. "Komm, Komm." _Come, Come._ The old man waved them on. John offered crouched and cupped his hands together near his waist and helped Hans onto the cart, who in turn gave John a helping hand up.

"Danke." _Thanks._ John said. His mind still thinking half in English and half in whatever language the locals spoke. Looking over the back of the cart, he saw Cato flick the reins to get the cart moving. He was looking over the wooden sidings, admiring the way the morning sun seeped through the trees and on to the bushes, trees and forest floor, dotting the ground like stars on water, swaying into random patterns of golden light. The gentle breeze followed the path of the forest track, bringing a cool breeze to help against the late summer sun. The world they were in was so perfect in comparison to the one they left. No more rattling of machine guns or the distant booms and whistles of enemy artillery or the crying of the men under his command as they mourned the dead. No all he could hear was the trickling of a nearby stream, the chirping of songbirds, and the soft creaks as the cart trundled down the beaten path of some far off world so utterly foreign that he took comfort that the German Sniper, a person who had killed many of his own men, was an anchor to a lost home. He chuckled to himself. ' _Here I am getting all sentimental, it's still better than the trenches'._ But then again, there was a pang of guilt, here he was, in a world untouched by the horrors of industrial warfare, with the warm air in his face, rather than the mud and muck of Flanders.

Rather than dwelling on whatever was happening in a world that he deemed neigh impossible to think of he took out his notepad and pencil and began looking over the pages upon pages of work that he had compiled during the conversation with the Professor and his Student last night about languages. He had started to create tables for the language. He was happy to find out that the sentence structure of this world was close to English, which made things a lot easier for him. That had been a problem for Hans, for as much as he could speak English, he had some trouble with the large amount Germanic words in the 'Saderan' language, causing him to trip him up with his grammar. Though through their combined efforts of translation, with Hans being taught German, English and Latin in school and John learning English, Greek and French in both formal education and with the fact his unit was stationed next to a French one. Flicking through the pages, it looked almost like a small language textbook, with the tables on Possessive, Personal and Article, Determiners and Pronouns as well as a small phrase book towards the back.

Looking up and the view had changed from passing trees to large and relatively flat wheat fields, in the distance a collection of what looked to be ten odd buildings. Next, to the road, the stream had been redirected into a irrigation or runoff channel leading towards the village and what looked like a small watermill, likely making this the centre of culture and commerce for the surrounding farms and hamlets, _'a little like a parish, back home.'_ John added mentally.

As they rode closer towards the village, the two of them were beginning to pick out parts of the buildings more clearly. Apart from the one building in the centre, that they assumed was the local chapel, given its shape and position, there were only two two-story buildings, that mill and what was probably the tavern of some sort. The cart came to a stop just outside of the tavern, where a stable hand moved to assist. Both John and Hans jumped off the back of the cart, swinging their rifles over their shoulders as the four of them walked into the market square surrounding the well in the village centre, there were a few things on display, most notable being a blacksmiths and a tailors working out of their houses as well as what looked like nomads unloading exotic gear out of the back of their beautifully decorated Vardo carriages. Looking over the Gipsies, John noted how, like Lelei, they all had the similar silver like hair and the captivating, and always alert, turquoise eyes.

Cato and Lelei went off to browse some of the vegetable stalls looking over the carrots' and squashes' that were on the verge of moving out of season. Hans leaned towards John to his right. "We should check out the church and ask what the priest knows. If memory serves me right, it tends to be the clergy, nobility and merchants who were best educated in this sort of time period."

"Worth a shot." John shrugged, passing through the doorway.


	3. Holy

C3: Holy

The building was made of red sandstone with twelve, simple, arched windows beaming in the morning light. The church had a semi circle of five windows at the far end as the two soldiers walked through the heavy wooden doors and down the aisle flanked by rows of pews. At the bottom twelve stool-like altars had a variety of different statues or idols. A man dressed in a plain, brown, full body robe that draped to hover just above his feet, with what looked like a white, silken scarf that when wrapped around his shoulders, dropped to the brown leather belt around his waist. The symbols, a thin black ring segmented into twelve, were near each end of the white scarf. The man turned to the sound of rifles being left to rest against a shelf at near the entrance, along with their bayonets and grenades. Removing their headdress, the two of them met the soft gaze of the priest's brown eyes.

They tilted their heads forward in respect as they moved into the main hall. "Güten Dag… Senior" _Good Day, Sir._

"Ah, Transweorlden! Komm, komm! Dous sont Fatigue? Hungre?" _Ah, Travelers! Come, Come! You're Tired? Hungry?"_ The man smiled at them.

"Err… Nein?" _No?_ John returned. "Vir sont Curis rin La Portum four Alnus?" _We are curious/interested in the Door of Alnus._ The man's left eyebrows visibly rose to the question. "Vir sont Aüslanderen." _We are Foreigners._ He pointed between both himself and Hans. "Pardon michs Accent, se'n'est güt. Sa'n'est unser Langia." _Pardon my accent, it isn't good. It isn't our language._

"Voher kommst dours? _Where do you hail from?_ The priest said, inviting them to sit on the front left pew. "Aüslanderen est ovbvio, Dour'sont vie Schiße rin la Nieve." Hans barked a laugh.

"What'd he say?"

"He said something like; 'You're clearly foreign, you're like shit in the snow.'" Hans translated. "I think I like this guy." Hans turned back to the priest. "Ich kommst von Deutschland, und michs Ami est von Britain." _I come from Germany, and my friend is from England._ "S'est trés viet von her." _It's very far from here_. "Ich estimer ses vir sont les erste von La Deutches Kaiserreich und La British Empire rin Falmart." _I believe that we are the first of the German Empire and British Empire in Falmart._ He said to the priest, now sitting on one of the three steps leading to the array of altars.

"Ich hab nix ken von Deutchland und Britain."

"S'est Weourlden proculer." _It is worlds away._ Hans said.

"Zo… Alnus, s'est trés interessant, nein? Voher hab dours efaren von La Portum four Alnus?" _So… Alnus, it's very interesting, no? Where did you learn of the Door of Alnus?_

"Unser Ami Cato." _Our friend Cato._

"Ah, Cato. Er'est semper mitten persons zum mich. Er'est semper nim occupern avec ernre Magikae, nix avec Sacre und les Divae." _Ah, Cato, He's always sending people to me. He's always too busy with his magic, never with Religion or the Gods._

Hans paused before replying. "Ich estimer vot nomme von les Divae n'est les nomme von unser. Vu compri?" _I think_ _your (plural, formal)_ _names of the Gods aren't the names of ours. You understand?_ He turned to John. "We have to tread carefully here unless we want to be burned at the stake for being non-believers. Medieval Europe and all."

"This is going to be fun." John turned to the priest. "Les Divae, könnte vu claren four uns welche sont welche. S'est dificile avec unser langien sonten diversus." _The gods, could you clarify for us, which are which? It's difficult with our languages being different._

"Ah, nix problem. Les Elverfolk hab andren nomme four les Divae." _Ah, no problem, the Elvenfolk have other names for the Gods._ He stood up and gestured to the centre, there were the three largest altars, consisting of a stylised number four that was made of tin on a candle and supported by oak leaves, the second altar had a white crossed bi-dent holding up a circle on the side of two crossed keys surrounded by cypress branches, and finally a trident of glass on a fish backed by a sword supported by seaweed. "Zufmuut, le Divus four Lux, Ordo und Polis, und le Rex Sanctus von Elysium." _Zufmuut, the God of Light, Order and Law, and the Holy King of Elysium/Heaven._ "Hardy, la Diva von Genesis, Ruin, Vita und Mort, und der Guardian von Inferni." _Hardy, the Goddess of Creation, Destruction, Life and Death, and the Warden of Inferno/Hell_. "Emroy, le Divus von Umbra, Bellum, Amor und Chaos, und der Custodis von le Oceans." _Emroy, the God of Darkness, War, Love and Chaos, and the Keeper of the Oceans._ "Sies'ont les Erste Divae." _They are the first Gods._

In the same order, John went over them. "We have a Zeus or Jupiter stand in, a weird fusion of Hades and Shiva, and finally a Poseidon, Mars, Satan and Aphrodite hybrid, a little weird if I dare say so. Let us just go with Jupiter, Pluto and Neptune… First gods and all."

"Yes, that's a good idea." Hans agreed.

"Und les Andren?" _And the others?_ John asked.

The two idols flanked the three in the centre; one had a crescent made of silver on an octagonal obsidian plate surrounded Devil's Trumpet Flowers and the other being a golden circle with a golden point in the centre backed by a circular lapis lazuli plate. "Mirrita, la Diva four Nox, la Lune, Fertillas, und le Flute und Ebbe." _Mirrita, the Goddess of Night, the Moon, Fertility, and the High and_ _Low Tides (Flood and Ebb_ _)._ "Flare, la Divus four Tag, le Solis, Feuer und les changeren des Zeit. _Flare, the God of Day, the Sun, Fire and the Changes of Time._ "Les Geminos von Drei Divae." _The Twins of Three Gods._

"Artemis and Apollo respectively." John recognised.

"Did you study the classics at school?"

"Yeah, it was one of the few things I was good at. Why'd you think I'm in the Army?"

The priest continued outward from the centre to the right. "Duncan, der divae von Eisenwerk, Industra und Progressus." _Duncan, the god of_ _Iron work (Smithing),_ _Industry and Progress._ He waved at an altar consisting steel hammer backed by a compass, then pointed at another two altars, with symbols of an 'X' with its top right replaced with an arrow backed by a serpent wound staff, and what looked like the number two in roman numerals, joined together backed by a simple drawing of an owl. "Elange est le Divus pour Ken, Artem, Medecin und Saggita, und Ernre Gemina Ral, la Diva pour Learnen, Sapient und Opus." _Elange is the God of Knowledge, Art, Medicine and Archery, and his_ _twin (female)_ _Ral, the goddess of Leaning, Wisdom and Handicraft/Craftmanship._ He moved to a simple circle of wood with an etching of a downward arrow with a horizontal line through it "Wareharun, Sie est la Diva pour la Erde, Baumen und Flores." _Warharun, she is the goddess of the Earth, Trees and Flowers_.

They were then pointed across the chapel where three more alters stood. "Palapon, Er'est le Divus von Vindicatus, Libra, Justica und Commercia." _Palapon, he's the God of Revenge, Balance, Justice and Commerce/Trade._ He said in relation of what looked like an underlined omega symbol in the middle of an actual pair of scales. To its left was a ringlet of four hands holding each other from the wrists with a what looked like an 'A' with three more horizontal lines. "Deldort, Er'est michs Patron Divus. Ergo michs nom est Theodulf _Del_ Friedrikson. Er est le Divus von les Pacts, Sociat und Sodalis." _Deldor, he's my patron god. Therfore my name is Theofulf_ Del _Friedrickson. He is the god of Covenants/Pacts/Deals…_

"Er… Pardon Senior. Vas est 'Sociat' und 'Sodalis'?" _Pardon Sir. What is_ Sociat _and_ Solidas? John asked politely. As much as he was getting into the swing of this language, it was still touch and go in places. _Thank Christ that I am a fast learner… though here it would be Thank Ral._

"Polis? Freundshaft?"

"I think he means Community and Friendship."

"Cute."

"Tot Güt?" _All good?_ He got two nods in return. "La Letseh von les Divae est Lunaryur." _The last of the Gods is Lunaryur._ "Die est auss la Neuseh von les Divae. Dien Domain est super les Musica, Theatrum und Menna Secratum." _She is also the newest of the Gods. Her domain is over Music, Theatre/Acting and Spies._ The altar had a simple outline of a Lyre's frame as a symbol backed by a black marble, downward facing, semicircle."Könnte ich hab les Ken super dot Patron Divae?" _Could I have the knowledge over your patron gods?_

"Unser Patron Divae? Pour ich? Michs Patron est le Kenned und Rectus, Elange." _Our patron god? For Me? My patron is the knowledgeable and true, Elange._ Hans said with some confidence, tapping his marksman rifle with a smile. "John?"

"Ral, Bellum sont super dien." _Ral, love be upon her._ He attempted in an impression of an Imam he met from the Indian Expeditionary Force.

"Ral und Elange… Interessant. Vurdre dours ein moment rin Solus pour Praise?" _Ral and Elange… Interesting. Would you like a moment in peace/alone for prayers?_

"Danke." Hans nodded before the priest left to tend to the altars. Making sure only he and John were present, he knelt down in front of the altar of Elange and pulled out an olive wood Rosary and a field copy of the New Testament.

"I'll let you do your prayers. I am going to see the priest, he seemed to have dodged the question about Alnus." John said, catching the eye of Krüger.

"You're not religious?"

"Agnostic. So you shouldn't go expecting me to start following these pagans either, unless I'm graced by Zufmuut in all his golden splendour. I'll see you in about five." He turned and left Hans by himself.

"Senior. Senior!" John called throughout the chapel. "Ein Question. Est ther ein problem rin Alnus?" _A question. Is there a problem at Alnus?_ John picked up the look the priest tried to hide. "There is… Shit."

"Les Roi Ligoners… le Grande Armee… sie'sont preperé pour einander attaque travers La Portum." _The Royal Legions… the Great Army… They're preparing for another attack through the Gate._

"Vo traverses La Portum?" _Where traverses the Gate?_

"Le Altseh Weourldus." _The Old World._

"And giving you speak shitty English, I am going to put my money on good old Planet Earth." He muttered to himself. "If they pop up in Flanders, they are going to get slaughtered."

"Es est nix güt… Est es?" _It's not good… Is it?_

"Nein. Praise vut Divae pour les Ligoners." He said turning his heel and briskly walking to Hans. With a rough grab of the shoulder, he looked directly into the German's eyes. "We need to get to Alnus as soon as possible. They are about to launch an attack on our world."

"How did you figure that out?"

"The priest said that they are about to attack 'The Old World', given that they all speak a cross of German, Latin, French, English, with a bit of Spanish, Arabic and whatever else mixed in. That and the fact we were magically transported into this world from ours, I think it isn't too hard to reason."

"They're going to run right into the single most militarised stretch of land in the world."

"But let us not forget that is also possibly our ticket home. If we can get through to the other side, we will be back in Belgium. Back home."


	4. Three's Company

C4: Three's Company

The two of them quickly moved out of the chapel and went looking for Cato and Lelei. They noticed the two of them chatting idly with some of the Gypsy folk, who somehow managed to get the apprentice mage to crack a slight, nigh unperceivable smile. A smile, that quickly disappeared from her face as the two soldiers approached. "Da est ein problem, Senior Cato. Le Grande Armee, Sie'est rin grande periculum." _There is a problem, Sir Cato. The Grand Army, it's in great…_ Hans said.

"Periculum?" He questioned.

"Danger?" John tried.

"Le Grande Armee? Danger? Vie?" _The Grand Army? Danger? How?_

"La Portum… An le andre zeite es gebe ein Schlactfeld inter unser Armeen." _The Gate… On the other side, there is a battlefield between our armies._ Hans gestured between himself and John

"Schlact Feld…" _Slaughter field._ Cato spelt out. "Eine Kampffeld?" _A Battlefield._ He looked Hans in the eyes. "Avec Waffen vie Dutre?" _With weapons like yours?_

"Da und encore plus." _Yes and even more._

"Heilige Schiße."

"You don't have to translate that for me, Hans." He cleared his throat. "Wir sont nach Alnus transweourlden…" _We are travelling to Alnus…_ He glanced at his pocket watch. "Now?"

"Jetzt." _Now_.

"Da. Est vurdre ein Schlacterei sein." _It would be a Butchery/Slaughterhouse._ The two Gypsy's next to them looked in confusion.

"Ers'ont von Le Altseh Weuoldus?" _They're (male)_ _from The Old World._ The nomad woman asked, clearly confused, the two outlanders simply looked plainly at the two blue-haired nomads. "Vegess Es." _Forget it/nevermind._ "Wir konnte dours ein Ritt geben. Wir sont nach Itallica transweourlden. Zo es'est nur ein Mille order Zwei aus les Carrefour?" _We could give you a ride. We are travelling to Itallica. So it's just a slight a mile or two off the crossroads._

"Danke." John said, noticing that the Gypsies where packing up their wears. He turned back to Cato. "Danke four la Essen und le Ritt rin Stade." _Thanks four the food and the ride into town._

"Gleichmesich four mich, Senior Cato und Seniorette Lalena." _The same for me, Sir Cato and Lady Lalena._ He removed a small piece of chocolate from his ration pouch and gave it Lelei and gave the girl a little ruffle on the head.

The two of them backed away to their cart, baskets in hand, waving back and saying their goodbyes. John asked the nomads if he could help pack away their wares as some recompense for the ride, but they simply waved him off, saying that 'it was by their very culture that they should help if others need it', though Hans probably guess that they didn't want John messing up their system of packing things away. They left no longer than fifteen minutes later, the sun well past noon and dipping into mid-afternoon. Given that Itallica was about twenty miles from here, he could imagine that they could comfortably get there an hour before sundown. The wheat turned to large pastures of grazing cattle, but the ground showed large amounts of traffic, churned up by horse tracks. The road they were on led up a small hillock.

As they approached the foot of the rise, a mounted figure appeared at the top, galloping in their direction. The person in question was wearing a dirtied uniform, consisting of a sky blue shirt, with a navy blue helmet with a clear visor, tie, waistcoat like vest and pair of trousers. There were a multitude of items strapped to the figures waist and vest, a baton, a small canister, handcuffs, a strange box with a with a black stick pointing out of one of the ends and what looked like a hip holster. What looked like a glass shield was strapped onto the left hand, with the second one on her back, and a pistol in her right. The rider continued towards them, down the hill. John moved onto his knee and took aim with Hans following his lead.

Behind the rider came a posse of six more, in more antiquated gear, long spears and banded wooden shields. Their armour looked positively Romanesque, complete with a red plume on the helmets. Their horses had a padded quilt like covering, likely weather protection for metal armour underneath. The riders were seemingly chasing the blue-clad riders. Given the weapons of the enemy, John and Hans affixed bayonets. "Halt!" John shouted but they kept up the pursuit. "For Fuck's sake. Halt!"

The front rider looked straight at the two of them. "You speak English?" It was a woman's voice, heavily accented, likely East Asian, perhaps Japanese. John had only met a couple of Japanese soldiers when a regiment from Alberta, Canada were posted the next section along the trenches. "My pistol is much use against their steel armour at this distance, can you help?"

"Who are you?"

"Officer Tanaka Ryu, Tokyo Metropolitan Police. Care to shoot those slaving bastards behind me?"

"Slavers? Shit." John raised his Enfield and fired shots at the approaching cavalrymen. Six shots fired in total, five bodies slumped against their horse's mane or on the floor. One of them got hit in the shoulder and attempted to retreat, but a bullet from Hans' rifle hit true the back of the neck, killing him. Officer Ryu slowed down her horse next to the soldiers.

"Thanks for the help." She said, jumping off the horse. "You have no idea how happy I am to see a fellow face from the other side."

"You came through The Door?"

"You mean The Gate? Not willingly… I'll explain while we are on the mover, it's best we make distance between The Gate and us. Do any of you know how to ride a horse?"

"I learned on the farm." John said. "What about you Hans?"

"I'm afraid not. I was going to become a chemist before the war."

"Then you are riding with me." He said slowly approaching one of the riderless horses. Hans went and picked up the empty cartridges and put them onto an empty clip for storage.

He looked at John. "I'm going to loot some of the bodies and other horses, we might find something worthwhile to sell in the next town to help tie us over." He rummaged through saddlebags and the pouches that hung from the hips of the soldiers to find some rations, a handful of mixed coinage, salt carrying bracelets, tents, blankets and roll mat's as well as a small number of trinkets. Using a mix of the sling bags and saddlebags he attached most of them to the outside of the Tanaka's horse. After a number of failed attempts, he managed to clamber onto the back of the horse.

"Are you okay?"

"Let's get moving before we get company." With a slight kick to the side of the horse, the trio set off.

"Officer."

"Yes?"

"Since when have the police accepted a female officer into the force? Is it for the war effort?"

"When were you born? The police have accepted women fore years. And what war are you talking about, we haven't been at war since Forty-Five?"

"Forty-Five?"

"You know, the Second World War? Come on, your British and German? When Germany lost the second time around?"

"It's Nineteen-Seventeen…"

She slowed down to their side. "You think you're from the First World War?"

"Who won?" Hans questioned.

"Britain, France, America and Japan. Russia turn communist, Austria-Hungry collapsed and Germany became an unstable democracy."

"We won?"

"Well, in that war, I'd say it's fitting to say that the Central Powers just lost more than anyone else." She added. "At least you didn't have to deal with the Spanish flu."

"I heard reports of a cough going around on some of the troop transports coming from America."

"You lucked out then, it effected all but Antarctica and one island in the Pacific. It killed about four per cent of the entire global population. That is about as much as twice the number that died in your war."

"You have to be joking. That's a ridiculous number."

"You two aren't ill at all?"

"We haven't noticed."

"Good. The last thing we need is another pandemic of that proportion."

"So you say that we are lost a hundred years in the future. Why should we believe you?"

"You're questioning logic when you are currently living in a world filled with wannabe Romans, dragons and magic." She frowned. With that they shut up and continued riding, bringing the horses into a gallop. "So where are we going?"

"We got most of the way here thanks to some Nomads that gave us a lift, I think we are going to follow them to Itallica."

"Itallica? I think I remember a number of soldiers mention it. What importance is it?"

"From what I gathered from our hosts last night, it's the main holding in the county, it has _a lot_ of merchant traffic as it is the main thoroughfare between this side of the Dumas Mountains and the side with the imperial city of Sadera. With about one to two thousand people living there. With the number of soldiers, scouts and runners that likely go through there, I'm sure we could get some information, or at least a bed and a bite to eat."

"Sounds like a plan."

Hans decided to join the conversation "I'd just like to make one suggestion." The two riders gave their attention to him. "Tanaka. I think you should let us do the talking. I'm sure that we have a better understanding of it, even if it is limited to a day and a bit."

"You're saying you are better than I am?"

"We have been actively learning and also getting help learning the language from locals, I also know German, French, English and Latin, and John knows a little Greek too. So we know a lot about the foundational languages for this learning Saderan."

"Fair enough, so long as you begin teaching me a little later on when we hit an inn."

The two soldiers agreed to that as they rode on for another three hours before they hit the town walls, the sun beginning to settle on the horizon, the red glow turning the sandstone walls an earthy pink. The main gates to the town were still open as twilight began to fall.

A sentry on the wall called them to stop. "Halt! Vas est vut Affairs here rin Itallica." _Halt! What business do you have here in Itallica_

Hans shouted back. "Wir Drie sont nur Transweourlden, unser Affairs sont solem Essen und Schlaffen." _We Three are only travellers, our business is solely food and sleep._

"Naturlich." _Naturally (of course)._ "Komm rin. Wir vil parler." _Come in. We will talk._

John turned back to the three of them. "We need some sort of cover. A reason to be travelling."

"We could be merchants or pilgrims." Hans offered.

"Not with our grasp of the language or knowledge of the culture, I was thinking more like mercenaries."

"Soldiers of fortune?" Tanaka laughed.

"Well Hans and I are soldiers, and given you're a police officer and managed to free yourself from some slavers, I'd say you have some mettle."

"Complementing a woman who can handle herself. I must say, you are quite progressive for a man from the early twentieth century."

"I try." He shrugged. "So we're all good to become mercs then?"

"It's what I'm good at." Hans sighed.

"Fine. Whatever. So long as I get a bed I'm happy. But we need a name."

"The Japanese-Anglo-German Company?" John offered.

"The JAG Company?" Hans barked a laugh.

"Do you have a better name?" John asked, riding a further forward.


	5. Three Kings Company

C5: The Three Kings Company

"How about The Three Kings Company? After all aren't we from three separate kingdoms. Britain, Germany and Japan, they are all empires, or at least were." Tanaka offered.

"What would they be in Saderan?" Asked John.

Hans' eyes narrowed in thought "Le Dreikonigsgersellshaft or La Compagnie de Drei Roi? Possibly a mix of all of them, however if we are basing it off English, I'd maybe guess something like Le Drei Konings Compagnie?"

"We'll go with that." The trio made it to the toll office, and quickly read the sign that much to their relief, still used the Latin alphabet but had a distinct lack of G's, J's and Y's.

Hans decided to speak to the exciseman. "Güten Abent." _Good Evening._ "Vie viel kostet es pour le Levy?" _How much does it cost for the levy/toll?_

"Pour zwie Hommes und eine Femme? Sechs Phence." _For two men and a woman. Six-pence._

"Sechs Phence?"

"Es gehbt ein grande viel Hommes transweoulden avec le Keig. Le Levy, es est normal pour le Prix zu monten." _There are a great many men travelling with the war. The toll, it is normal for the price to rise._

Reluctantly, Hans reached into the pouch and pulled out six of the smallest copper coins he could find and passed it to the exciseman. "S'est güt?"

"Da." He nodded. "Alexios, elever la Portum." _Raise the gate._

"Danke." Hans nodded, moving away before the man called back.

"Senior, serche vours sont pour les Employ?" _Sir, are you looking for work?_

"S'est possible das wir sont." _It's possible that we are._

"Ich hab gerdacht das vours sont Mercernnarius." _I thought you were Mercenaries._ "Serche drin 'Le Grenier Fornix', viel merchants venden Merciernnarius pour seins Expediten. _Search 'The Granary Vaults', many merchant hire mercenaries for their expeditions._

"Vielen Dank, Senior." Hans gave the man an extra coin and moved off to join Tanaka and John. "We're to check out 'Le Grenier Fonix', an inn of sorts, we could get some work in and likely a bed to rest our heads."

"What sort of work?"

"Trade protection. But I'd imagine that there might be some bounties that we could collect instead if that is more up your ally?" The brought their horses to the stable. "What do you think?"

"I'd rather do bounty hunting. There is a better 'bullets used to payment' ratio, and in a weird way, you'll still be doing your job."

"Just on the wrong planet."

"Details, details." John smirked as they gave the stable hand the money and asked him what way it was to the inn. The three of grabbed their valuables made sure their saddles were securely locked away. They moved through the emptying streets, they caught a glimpse of the blue-haired Nomads they hitched a ride with earlier that day. They quickly followed a staircase down and ducked under the entrance to the Inn. A bulky man stood behind the bar, a large auburn handle moustache stretched from ear to ear, with blue eyes scanning the floor, checking for trouble. Those eyes finally fell upon the three newest customers, his crossed arms fell, inviting them in. They made towards the bar, as the volume of the other patrons fell slightly as they inspected the newcomers, only for it to pick up almost immediately.

"Tagien, Seniors und Senioret." _Hello, sirs and lady._ "Vie kanst ich vours aiden?" _How can I help you?_

Hans took the lead again. "Haben vu drei Schlafzimmer?" _Do you have three bedrooms?_

"Schlafzimmer?"

"Drei Chambre?"

"Trasnweourlden?"

"Da, Senior."

A smile grew on his face. "Vielen Grand Kommens." _Many Welcomes._ "S'est eine Shequelle." _It's a Shekel._

"Wirklich?" _Really?_

"Avec le Krieg…" _With the war…_

"Ja, Ja." He took out a thin, silver piece, roughly the same size as the copper coin. "Excuse mich. Velches Piece es ein Shequelle? Wir sont pour ein andren land." _Excuse me. Which coin is a Dinar? We are of another land._

The barkeep laughed. "Vours nix ken vot Gelt?" _You don't know your money?_

"Ich ken vas ein Phence est?" _I know what one penny is._

He reached behind him and into a lockbox built into the wall. He took out a number of coins as Tanaka and John flanked Hans. On Hans' left was a thin copper piece with a head on one side and an eagle on the other. "S'est ein Phence pour le Stadt Itallica, avec le Apulia pour le Neunte." _This is an Itallican Penny, with the Aquila of the Ninth._ A larger copper coin was presented again with the profile face but this time instead of the eagle, there was a mountain with a gate at the bottom. "S'est eine Shequelle pour la Oberalnus, order Zwelphence. Avec le blazon pour le Comitus der Oberalnus." _This is a Shekel of Upper-Alnus, or a twelve-pence. It has the heraldry of the Earl of Upper-Alnus._ A small silver piece, with the reverse holding an image of an eagle perched on a gate. "S'est eine Dinar, order funf Shequelles, est es kenned auch as ein Halb-Lira. Avec le blazon pour le Dux de Westerreich." _This is a Dinar, or five Shekels is also called a half-pound. This has the heraldry of the Duke of the Westerreich._ The last coin was a large silver piece with a reverse of a Roman shield with bat-like wings in each of the quarters. "S'est eine Imperialis Lira, order zehn Shequelles." _This is an imperial Lira/pound, or ten Shekels._

"Danke, Senior. Wir sont neu zu Sadera." _Thank you, sir. We are new to Sadera_. Hans pulled out two shekels and pushed it across to the bartender.

"Villst vours her Essen?" _Will you be eating here?_

"Da. Danke."

"Nix Problem." _No problem._ The trio was pointed towards a table, next to a group of merchants, given the quality of their clothing. They had hats, not too dissimilar to that of a chef, but rather black and red and with a feather sewn into the cloth. They wore similarly coloured clothing, in the form of a black doublet with crimson threading and blood red stockings, the only other colours present on his body was the gold, silver and bronze buckles, necklaces, rings and broaches, strewn across his person.

Across from the merchant was a man in a green tunic, with a silver, soup bowl like helmet resting on the table, not too dissimilar to Johns green one. The green tunic, however, was covered with plates of metal, behind him a large spear, similar to a Roman Pilum, with a wooden shaft up to two-thirds of the way before being replaced with a soft iron shaft that let to a pyramidal point. Next to the spear was a tower shield. I total the man looked like some sort of medieval Roman of some sort.

The bartender brought around three moderate bowls of stew and set it in front of them. "Danke, Senior."

"Nix Problem." He waved off.

"Senior?" Hans asked.

"Da?"

"Gebht es ergenvelche Testgelten?" _Are there any bounties?_

"Testgelten? Hmm… Kann sint." _Bounties? Hmm… Could be._ "Ein Moment." _A moment._ The man moved behind the counter and scanned through a pile of documents that he had under the front bar. He came back up with three rolls of paper. "Se'sont drüked heute Morgen." _These were printed_ _this (today)_ _morning._ He passed them around to the trio.

"Danke." John said. The man just waved them off.

He left them chuckling to himself about 'Aüslander Testgeltenjäger' or _Foreign bounty hunters._

Looking through the papers. They saw a number of interesting faces. There was a clan of wolfmen, apparently, who were harassing trade routes between here and the Imperial Capital. The head of their leader and his lieutenants apparently were worth a pretty penny, dead or alive, with a payout of five Lira, or what would be about fifty Pounds Sterling in 1917 Britain, or roughly the cost of a deposit of a moderately priced house. Another poster was for a group of individuals who were pretending to be army officials and collecting false taxes from serfs, three Liras. The final poster was for a man who had been stealing cattle, one Lira. The last two were wanted alive, due to the army wanting to make an example, and the second being needed to be made an example of by the county constabulary.

"Let's just get a good payout. I'm thinking we simply take out these wolfmen, whose existence, I'd like to say, does not make sense. Then again, neither does magic." John suggested.

"With our equipment, we could probably take them out from afar. Do you know how to be a spotter John?"

"I am a designated marksman, Hans. Have some faith in me."

"Tanaka, do you want to keep up protected from behind as we take them from afar?"

"Will do."

"I think that we should tail a merchant, use them as bait. When our targets attempt to seize the caravan, we begin the attack or, if I'm being technical, defence."

"I think we should eat, get some rest, and wake up with the sun tomorrow." They all nodded in agreement.

The sun was shining through the cracks of the window slats as the new day started. They grabbed their supplies and began to the stables. By the time they arrived, both the nomads and what looked like a small train of mismatched merchants were doing their final preparations before setting off. The stable hand aided them with their saddles and refitting their belongings, and not too long after that, they set off around ten minutes after. They remained about half kilometre ahead of them. John had reused a quiver as a sheath for his rifle by unlacing a hole at the bottom and looping it around the front left handle of the saddle, while Hans simply looped on his back. Officer Ryu, garbed in her body armour and John's greatcoat, had the heavier equipment on her horse to allow the other horse to comfortably ride with two bodies.

As they travelled the long straight road, they saw the Dumas Mountains encroaching, large alpine peaks, jutting up sharply like vicious teeth int. After about four hours, they came across another parish village, they decided to stop and let the caravans get some distance and to ask a couple questions about the wolfmen. Hans hopped off the horse and quickly moved into the inn to ask questions, while John and Tanaka moved to a trough and allowed their horses to drink. John moved to the stream in the middle of town and collected water from upstream and boiled it. Before pouring it into their water bladders and bottles. Moving back they got back on their horses and moved off.

John spoke first. "Did you get any useful intelligence?"

"According to merchants passing through, the Grey Mane Clan tends to attack about twenty-five miles up the road. So if we are going by the pace of the caravan, we are looking at an attack tonight or tomorrow morning, which means we are going to set up a watch tonight. Luckily we will have the moon on our side, giving us some natural light over the camp. We will try and be downwind as to aid us in being quiet, that also means no fires, even if they don't hear it or see it, the smell will be a dead giveaway."

"What about our horses?"

"When the caravan halts we will be one hundred metres back and we'll go perpendicular route uphill for twenty meters and wait for an ambush. We will get our horses to lie down, then we provide overwatch for the course of the night, with each of us staying awake for about two and a half hours."

"Sounds like a plan." The tree of them rode in relative silence.

"Officer Ryu?" Hans asked. "May I ask you a question?"

"Sure. What's on your mind Lieutenant?"

"You said something earlier on, about how Germany isn't an empire anymore. What happened?"

"The war ended, Germany capitulated to the Entente, and was penalised with war reparations and forces demilitarisation of the Rhineland, dismantling of the Army, Air Force and Navy, and finally a revolution caused the end of the empire, with it being replaced by a Constitutional Democracy."

"So the empire is dead? And for the past hundred or so years has been a republic?"

"No, there was a military dictatorship from the mid-thirties through to the mid-forties. That was the period of Adolf Hitler's Nazi party controlling the country leading to the Second World War and that is not mentioning the Holocaust. This was a very dark time for Germany, in which they lost again to the British, French, Americans and the USSR."

"Germany lost twice?"

"Don't get me wrong, Germany was winning the war for the first couple of years with France effectively being North Africa and the British being isolated on their island fighting off the Luftwaffe as their supply convoys were sunk by the German U-boat fleet."

"Then what happened?"

"Germany attacked the USSR, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and proceeded to invade pretty much up to Moscow and what is now Volgograd before being pushed back all the way to Berlin, with the city being all but completely levelled to the ground. This around the same time the US joined the war and with the help of the Britain, France and their colonies, as well as a number of exiled forces from Poland, the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg and other occupied countries. This led to the country being split between the four major powers, with Germany and Austria being split into four, as well as their capitals. It was only in the nineties, with the fall of the USSR, that the German state reunified to form the Federal Republic of Germany."

"So Germany is now a Federal Republic? No Kaiser and no empire?"

"It doesn't even control East Prussia and most of the east was integrated into what is now Poland. Germany is still, however, a world power, with the fourth largest economy, after the United States, China and Japan. And the UK just falls behind France as the sixth."

"How's that happen?" John asked.

"The UK just left the European single market, and the empire has been on a steady decline since the end of the Second World War with the nations declaring independence from Britain, some still recognise the Queen as the head of state, such as Canada, but others are completely autonomous republics such as Ireland or Pakistan."

"Ireland isn't British anymore?"

"Well Northern Ireland is, but that is a completely different story."

"So the United States and the Chinese are now the superpowers of the world?"

"The Americans are for the moment, but they are stagnating when compared to new regional powers like China, India and the European Union, the latter isn't a country but a multinational confederation of European states that acts a lot like a country, with its own legislative, judicial and executive branches and a groundwork for a united European military."

"What kind of country sacrifices its sovereignty like that?"

"Pretty much all of Western Europe, except Switzerland, Norway and a couple micronations or tax havens."

"This includes the UK and Germany?"

"They were founding members of the EU, and both members of its predecessor the European Economic Community, which created a single market in Europe. Pretty much creating peace in Europe as it was to bad for business to declare war on a country you make so much trade with. In fact, there hasn't really been an international war in Europe since the Second World War except for the break up of Yugoslavia and subsequent Balkan War."

"So peace in Europe?" John added.

Hans wasn't sure how he should've felt.


	6. Ambush

C6: Ambush

Their little campsite was situated on a spur that overlooked the caravan. The horses were lying down, providing a little windbreak for the trio. Hans and Tanaka were out cold, their hide rollmats keeping their bodies up from the cool earth, their jackets acting as blankets. John levelled his rifle with a backpack and lay somewhat comfortably on his rollmat. He scanned the area about once every five minutes, looking for any changes in the environment. The travellers were wise enough to rig their surrounding area with alarms and put out their fires. With a small amount of luck, these travellers would be without incident for the night. He kept one of his ears clear, allowing him to hear for any disturbances.

So far the night had been uneventful, with only a couple false alarms in the form of foxes and other nocturnal creatures catching his attention. Looking through the sight of his Enfield he retraced the throughways of the wall of tarpped carts and collection of tents in the middle, in a way making it a miniature fort of wood and canvas. Not great, but better than nothing, at least it prevented effective reconnaissance and made it somewhat tedious to attack, with the centre easily reinforcing the 'spokes' that the attackers would be forced to go down. They strung up tarps between the caravans, giving the illusion of an actual barrier, encouraging the enemies to bottleneck, even if they could cut through them. There were a number of people circling the caravan, switching hourly, keeping watch.

 _It is probably safer to travel with the Nomads rather than anyone else; they seem to have camp defence down to an art_. John thought. Out of the corner of his vision he saw a rustle in the bushes on the downhill side of the road, and the unmistakable flash of steel in moonlight. There were a number of spear points cresting the side of the road held by furred hands. _Smart, using the ledge as a natural trench to hide your numbers, but I have the high ground._ He quickly kicked Hans, whose eyes snapped open. "It's go time."

He nodded and proceeded to shake Tanaka, who was slower to wake and was comparatively groggy, her job was to take the horses away as they'd be spooked by the rifle fire. Hans moved next to him with his own rifle, John pointed towards the enemy. "I think we don't need a spotter, they seem close enough for us to shoot with accuracy. What distance would you think they are at?"

"Roughly about two-fifty meters?" He said as he readjusted his telescopic sight and inserted his other earplug and gave the German an okay hand gesture, which was returned. The two of them aimed and waited for the wolfmen to walk up to the alarm wire, were they slowly stood over it. "That looks like they have mostly cleared the lip of the road, you take the ones to the front, I take the ones to the rear. Start firing." With trained precision, they proceeded to shoot the enemies at both sides. Six shots were fired and six bodies fell before the enemy was able to react. The camp awoke too; rifles aren't quiet weapons, after all, the loud bangs echoed off of the three walls of the hollow. The three remaining wolfmen proceeded to attempt to run, but more rounds stopped them dead in their track, falling violently onto the floor, one seemed to be alive.

The two of them collected their spent cartridges and rolled up their mats and Johns bag before slipping downhill towards the fallen enemies. They walked up to one of the still writhing wolfmen, guessing by the wound, it had hit his abdomen went through his gut and through his lower spine. It was a going to be a slow and painful death via blood loss. John turned to Hans. "I'll speak to the locals, you see if you can get some information out of him, offer him a quicker death as a reward."

"Will do." Hans kicked over the wolfman to face upwards. The German was still trying to wrap his head around how something like a wolfman existed. _It looks both so human and animalistic at the same time._ He took out his combat knife. "Dours had eine grand veil Gelten an dot Tete. Vo est le reste von dot Amis?" _You have a large amount of money on your head. Where are the rest of your friends?_ The manbeast attempted to snap at him. "Komm jetz. Ich hab net gerfracht." _Come now. I asked nicely._ He took his knife and plunged it into the wolfman's thigh. "Vo sont dot Amis?" _Where are your friends?_

"Zwei mille Sud pour Valeria." _Two miles south of Valeria._ It yelped.

"Danke." Hans removed his knife and holstered it, before removing his pistol and finishing the job. Tanaka arrived on horseback and looked like she was about to throw up from the sight. "We need to search and move the bodies. We still have the big bad to kill."

Tanaka took out a breathing mask from her pocket and hopped off her horse and with the help of Hans shifted one of the bodies to a roadside ditch, stripping it of anything deemed valuable. Hans removed his jacket as to line the area between it and his shirt with chainmail. There was a small collection of oat biscuits and other provisions that were added to the saddlebags as well as a number of skins filled with wine and water. With the nine bodies dumped unceremoniously. Hans grabbed a shield and with a knife roughly carved in _Kriminelle_ as a warning against any others who would try and harass them.

John returned and Hans moved to meet him. "So what are the Nomads saying?"

"They are thankful for our intervention and are impressed by our magical prowess, they said they haven't seen magic so accurate before."

"You let them believe that?"

"If makes things easier for them to understand, so be it. I'm liking the new get up by the way, very medieval. I might follow suit, though I plan to stay far back with the enemy within my sights and never getting the chance to know I was there. So what's up with Tanaka?"

"She wasn't a big fan of my interrogation technique it seems, given the disgusted look she had."

"I see. What you'd do?"

"Knife to the thigh? Then shot him."

"She is a civilian to be fair." He shrugged. "So where are we going next?"

"A place two miles south of Valeria." Hans looked over the shoulder of John and saw a blue haired man approach. "Senior?"

"Legate Krüger, v'est eine View prour vunde Ohs." _Lieutenant Krüger, you're a sight for poor eyes._ "Danke pour l'aid." _Thanks for the aid._

"N'es problem. S'est unser employ." _No problem._ _It's our job._

"Kanst vir vours aiden pour ehchange?" _Can we help you in return?_

"Haben vu eine Karte order Mape?" _Do you have a map (German/French) or a map (Latin/Spanish)?_

"S'est un possiblitea… Eine Taze Té pour les drei pour vu? _It's a possibility… A cup of tea for the three of you?_

"Danke, Senior Soma." John thanked, before turning around and shouting. "Tanaka. Tea's on the go if you want some?"

"I'll be right there." She jumped into a jog to meet them as they entered the little encampment. John held the tarp open for her and let her into the inner circle and the two of them sat on either side of Hans.

Soma placed a large pot of water was placed on a smooth rectangular block of granite. With a couple words of what sounded somewhat like Finnish or Hungarian, the stone began to heat up, the shimmering in the air visible in the moonlight. Opening the lid, Soma added some dry leaves. He looked across to a fifteen-year-old boy an waved him over "Usko, tetszik." The boy moved to meet him. "Napata a helyi terkep." The boy nodded and moved off. The others in the caravan had shuffled out of their caravans and sat around the hotstone. The boy quickly came back with a folded piece of paper and passed it to Soma. With a click of his finger, a small flame appeared at the tips of his index and thumb. "Legate Krüger und Stevenson, und Senioret…"

"Ryu."

"…und Senioret Ryu." He cleared his throat. "Vours serche pour vas?" _You are looking for what?"_

"Eine Emcamperment zwei Mille Sud von Valeria." _An encampment two miles south of Valeria._

"Valeria est zwelve Mille von Heir." _Valeria is twelve miles from here._ He trailed the path from their current position to a village nestled in the foothills of the Dumas Mountains. "S'est eine Cantere heir." _There is a quarry here._

"Perfect. Danke Senior." Hans thanked as the Soma pulled up the pot and a woman next to him grabbed some ceramic cups and passed a cup to all present. "Prost!"

At the break of dawn, the party woke up. After a quick breakfast, they packed up their things and began to move on the Valeria. The went ahead of the caravan making sure the area was clear of any more bandits, nothing bar what looked like an army messenger passed them on their path east. It was about nine o'clock when they made it to the small village, though it was really hamlet more than anything, merely consisting of an inn, a parish chapel and a small collection houses. The townsfolk seemed somewhat wary of travellers, so the trio decided that staying longer than twenty minutes was probably not a good idea.

They proceeded south towards the quarry, down a dirt road, quite unlike the nice paved, Roman roads that ran on the trade roads between Itallica and the Capital. They moved at moderate speed, not wanting to look like they were searching for something. There were a number of quarries in the area, it turned out. Large swaths hillsides carved out for what looked like limestone. They heard a sound up ahead. Luckily they were downwind, giving their movements cover. Hans hopped off the horse and prepared to move into a higher position. John and Tanaka kept low, putting the horses to rest and once Hans was ready, signalled the two of them with a white handkerchief. The two of them hopped out of cover and moved to a boulder at a lip of the quarry.

Tanaka took the lead, putting her left hand up and slowly counted down from three before they emerged from cover towards a collection of weather wore limestone bricks. The two of them had caught a glimpse of furred backs. John attached his bayonet, hoping not to have to use it. The flashed an 'ok' hand gesture to Tanaka, who returned in kind. With a push, they emerged from cover and pointed their weapons at the enemy, prepared to shoot.

However, they hesitated.

* * *

 **A/N: A little more action this time around, and with a cliffhanger. But enough about that, I was wondering if anyone would be interested in helping me with the Saderan language, or has any ideas on how I should develop the culture of the area? If you think that's your cup of tea, just drop a review or PM me.**

 **Tschüss**

 **MDAM-FASEGold**


	7. The Pack

C7: The Pack

Women and children. _Though bitches and pups may be more accurate_. John thought. _Still Non-combatants._ Both he and Tanaka held their ground, weapons raised at the camp that had stopped and looked at the trespassers. Some of them were in arms reach of their weapons and moving to them. "Halt." He said swinging his Enfield at the wolfman. "Wir nix desen einemann nach heren, aber wir kan. Wir haben eine Tetegelteptition four le mort order fassen von les Grau-Mahne, nix pour sens nix hast impliciad drin solche Actioni" _We don't want to hurt anyone, but we can. We have a bounty for the death or capture of the Grey-Mane Clan bandits, not for those who weren't involved in such activities._

"Ver in nomme von Les Zwelph bist dour." _Who by the name of the Twelve are you?_

"Ich bin kenned as John, s'est Tanaka, wir sont Tetegeltenjäger, un wir haben serchiad pour Les Grau-Mahne banditi. Aber sies haben eine Gruppe Romams reveliad, zo wir moste inteven und sies mortiad von unser Mani" _I am called John, this is Tanaka, we are bounty hunters, and we were looking for Grey-Mane bandits. They, however, found a group of Nomads, so we had to intervene and they perished by our hands._

"Vu hast unser Manns mortiad." _You killed our men?_

"Si dies var les einen ver hat harcelen le Via principe von Itallica nach la Capital, alores ich bin Incubi sen'est zo, Senioria." _If they were the ones who were harassing the main throughway between Itallica and the capital, then I am afraid so, ma'am._

"Vie kannte vours diem schlagiad, Mannch? Funf Manns von dout dimensus vurde" _How could you have defeated them Human? Five men of your size would struggle to end one of us._

"Sen konte le cuase sein, s'ich vurde ein Epus order ein Lance, aber sen n'est le Causus. Wir halteh drin unser Mani ein trés precise et ein trés stark kemian Mechinus. Ich nix deseh sie utiliseh." _That may be the case, if I were wielding a sword or spear, but that is not the case. We hold in our hands a very precise and powerful alchemical device. I do not wish to use it._

"Un Magus, vie interessant, vous seisteh mehr vie ein Mannvonarme avec tot les verdi Fabrik und Serusarmous." _A mage, how interesting, you look more like a soldier (man of arms/weapons) with all that green cloth and chainmail._ A voice called to the left, it was an older woman wolf. "Damae, ruheh dotre Suich. Ses Zwie haben Aide probabili, und les serusarmous seisten viel vie meine Filuses est. Le fol." _Ladies,_ _calm yourselves (stand down/at ease)_ _. These two probably have back up, and that mail looks a lot like my son's. The fool._ She sighed. "Vas virst vours avec uns faren?" _What are you going to do to us?_

"Wir nix desen vours mort, four le record. Wir bloss deseh frei Transweourlden auf les Vae, nix einig harcelen, si'ses requen vours raus le Comty order Duchy, sie vird sien. Wir nix desen vours mort. Ich vurde denken vu nix vurde nim?" _We don't want you dead, just for the record. We just want free movement on the main roads, no harassment, if that means you have to move out the county or duchy, so be it. We don't anyone of you dead. I'd like to imagine you don't either?_

"Ich comprehendeh, wir vill transweourlden sa Noctia." _I understand, we will move out tonight._

"Mutti?" _Mother?_

"Hilf, jetzt n'est la Zeit zu argumenteh, sie'n'est oft wir haben ein option. Wir demandeh nur four uns nach le Terminus West von Itallica Ekortiad sein." _Hlif, now is not the time to argue, it's not often we are given an option. All we ask is to be escorted to the border to the west of Itallica._

"Wir konnte ses faren, Senoria. Wir soll vours croisen Ost von Valeria nach Neutag. Wir vill eine Ure varten, si vours falleh zu adparen, wir vill considen vours weg." _We can do that, ma'am. We shall meet just east of Valeria after dawn. We will wait an hour, if you fail to arrive, we will consider you gone._

"Sie suner gut four uns. Wir vill seisten vours Morgen." _Sounds good to us. We will see you tomorrow._ John looked up at the quarry straightened his arm above his head and with an index finger out, began to rotate his hand at the wrist, indicating a regroup.

A gleam of metal shone of a passing entourage passed the group on the Itallica road, knights of some kind, making their way west, most likely to the gate. The was a woman at the head of the trio, who, not too unlike Lelei, had a spectacular colour of hair, though a deep crimson rather than blue, but she wasn't a 'red-head' like though found so common in Ireland and Scotland, but an actual deep red comparable to that of a rose.

John and Hans scanned the rest of the small posse. There was a petite young lady with short, cropped brown hair. She had a uniform similar to that of the first woman, a stylised outfit that seemed a mix of armour on the shoulders, but also rather scandalous crimson and white dress uniform, with skirts that looked more fitting as a belt, but all and all it was still clearly of high quality, suggesting nobility of some kind. They were kitted out for battle, be that on the field of the negotiation table.

The heavy set man to the rear of the group, grey haired and balding, was kitted out in a different style, more akin to that of a roman legionnaire, just like the occupiers of Alnus Hill. His mount, much like the man himself, was a lot larger and more akin to an ox than the two ladies' in front, a horse meant for battle rather than speed.

They passed the group of three foreigners and the pack of twenty Grey-Manes' with as little as a glance rearward. "Ses nix eni güt Signus" _That's not a good sign._ A tired voice sighed, John turned to meet the gaze of Hilde, the older wolf-lady.

"Vie zo?" _How so?_

"Sens var les Rosa Cavalieri." _Those were the Rose Knights._

"Rosa Cavalieri?" _Rose Knights?_

"Eine Compangus von Mannvonarme leitaid von Reginette Piña er Suich" _A company of warriors led by Princess Piña herself._

"Zo, die est wandren le Land fachen vas exact?" _So, she is roaming the country doing what exactly?_

"Die hatteh uberall rinnen ein Gest sein zum les Nobeli, ses est vas les Rumours seggen. Die ist le Preafectus les Cavalier Ordo von la Rosa. Ein, von jetzt, nix probiad Croupe von Bruyantae dies son ein bella Peridos cont deinre nobel Perani, sies sont allen aven nur four narer perivon sies desen siens Familae fastiad narer zu le Roi Familia. Aber, dies haben ein certo Senior Grey instruten diems. Prior le Preafectus de Zehnte Legion de Vestudma, und preasiad numerus Victorae pour l'Imperium bis ernre fortiad Mussicus Zehn Jarn ret, nach anoien le faus Senator. Sie var nur ein preaseh von l'Imperator suich ses er inceptiad le Genisus le Ordo von la Rosa. Aber, ob er ist instruten sens Seniorae zu Bella et zu preasiad Armis, ses Ordo ist mehr perculius alors siens denkiad." _She's been running around being a joke to the nobility, that's what the rumours say anyway. She is the commander of the Knightly Order of the Rose. An as of yet untested group of tomboys who are going through a rebellious phase against their noble parents, who are only going along with it because it gets their families tied closer to the Royal Family. However, they do have a certain Sir Grey teaching them. Former commander of the Tenth Legion of Vestduma, and led a number of victories for the Empire until his forced retirement in ten years ago, after annoying the wrong senator. It was only after getting a request from the Emperor himself that he began to form the Rose Order. But if he is teaching those Ladies how fight and lead armies, that Order is more dangerous than the nobility even know._

"Vu seggiad ein grand sum circa ses Senior Grey, vie fariad er zu eine Rinpushia auf vu?" _You speak a great deal about this Sir Grey, how did he leave such an impression on you?_

"Le Legion von le Zehnte hat uns clariad von le Nord viel Jarn ret. Wir haben rin parti exodus alores nach, transweourldn von Stade von Stade, Comty von Comty, tenten zu revelen ein Plaza four uns proper, da sont auch Gesti sagghen ses wir sollte ein Navus ascenden und nach le Flaredorm Ocean navien. Wir sont effektivi Nomadi, aber avec mehr Stringi, minium les Mannch Nomadi kan enteren la Commercial Quautia von Sadera, order conceniad eine Plaza de College von Rondel. Zo ses monds wir haben zu racten und clepten zu superviveh. Wir vurden West transweuorlden sein perivon minimum se part la Weourld est etvas lenis avec unser Genus, origili le Comte von Itallica implreh einege Medimanns vie Personi in ernre Residominus." _The Legion of the Tenth cleared out us from the North many years ago. We've been in a partial exodus there after, wondering from city to city, county to county, trying to find a place for our own, there have even been jokes saying that we should board a ship and sail across the Flaresdorm Ocean. We're effectively nomads, but with more restrictions, at least human nomads can go into the Commercial District of Sadera, or be granted a place at the College of Rondel. So that means we have to scrape and steal to survive. We are going westwards because at least this part of the world is relatively lenient with our kind, in fact the Count of Itallica hires demi-humans as staffers in his residence._

"Zo, vours virst penten sein four le Land von Obportus?" _So, you're heading to the land of opportunity?_

Ich denkeh wir sont…" _I guess we are…_ She gave a slight smirk, who knew you're sons killers could provide such good company.

It was nearly dusk by the time they made it to Itallica. The moon was just breeching the horizon as the long shadows of the surrounding hillside cast themselves across the fields. The large group of made their way to the gates and stopped. A guard made his way from the safety of his blockhouse and walls and out where Hans went to meet him. "Vas rin nomme les Zwelfen sont vour faren aus heer? Da sont Croupe les Brigae heerum." _What in the name of the twelve are you doing out here? There are bands of brigands around._

"Wir sont heer zu ein Testgelten collagen. Se Genus hat kommaid zu verren ses wir hatteh seins Manns mortaid. Ein parti impar, aber wir sont neu zu se hal Testgelten Cos. Vurdest vu granten uns rin kommen?" _We are here to collect a bounty. This clan has come to testify that we have actually killed their men. A little odd, but we are new to this whole bounty thing. Would you let us come in?_

"Da, da. Aber ich curiad, vurdest vours volo sein zu donnen vut Munae pour ein Releser von le Portum Levy?" _Yes, yes. Though I ask, would you be willing to exchange your services for an exemption of the gate toll?_

"Zo langue vie se Genus kann auch rin kommen und nix harceliad von vut Veardi, seis sont, nach tot, soub unser protectia" _So long as this clan may come in as well and not get harassed by your guards, they are, after all, under our protection._

"Vasimmer. Certusi. Avec to les Manns in Bella, wir brauch Totmenns. Vours vill deseh Senior Grey kenfachen nach vours Volos zu aiden vie rapide vie possibli, ernre Nobelia amereh zu kennen vas die est avec teilen." _Whatever. Sure. With all the men at war, we need anyone. You will want to inform Sir Grey about your willingness to help as soon as possible, his liege likes to know what she's dealing with._

"Danke" _Thank you._ He turned to the group. "Wir sont gut zu rin allen." _We're good to go in._ "John, take the rear, Tanaka the centre, make sure no one gives the clan any problems."

"Sure thing."

With that the entire group made there way inside. The gate square had been refitted with fortifications made of wooden Czech Hedgehog fences and furniture, giving it all a very French Revolutionary vibe. A number of local militia members walked about with weapons they were not used to and armour ill fitting. _This was going to be interesting._


End file.
